


Double The Pleasure, Triple The Fun

by roachpatrol



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, PWP, Threesomes, Unrequited Love, Xeno, double teaming, selfcest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-18
Updated: 2011-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:56:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roachpatrol/pseuds/roachpatrol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Goddamn it, testing," you repeat, and you're back to solo, only your Derse mouth running. "Testing, one, two," you add with your Prospit face, and don't even yawn. "Excellent."</p><p>"That's really freaky," Karkat says hoarsely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double The Pleasure, Triple The Fun

**Author's Note:**

> For the Homesmut prompt: Two versions of Sollux double-teaming Karkat.  
> Thanks to biichan for the beta!
> 
>  _  
> Two heads are better than one  
>  It's double the pleasure  
> Triple the fun  
> I said  
> Two heads are better than one  
> It'll make you come undone..._  
> \--Nelson, _Two Heads Are Better Than One_

"Hey, Sollux, you here? Sollux? You fuck, come on, I know you're in here, Terezi said I needed to come talk to you. Grubsit, more like, I bet you've passed out again, you always push your... self..." Karkat trails off, his head just barely poking through the doorway.

You're propped in the wide, comfortable curve of one of Terezi's circular external viewing portals, working by the murky teal-white flashes of Thought and Flow from Terezi's sky to try and patch a chunk of silicomb to the archaic metal machinery of the carapaces. It's not going well: despite the bioelectric flashes that dampen your psychic head traffic of the doomed to a dull and refreshingly manageable murmur, your bees are on the verge of a royal temper tantrum from having to condescend to deal with clunky stinking analog tech and you can't stop yawning. You're too busy to do more than glance up before he gets back to work, all four of your hands sticky with honey and sharp-smelling oil.

"Get away from there, you could fall," Karkat snaps, pulling entirely away from the door.

"Wow, get off my bulge, KK," you say absently with your Derse body. You've almost got the dance module converted to a mechanical analogue and then your bees will fucking calm their little bee tits-- machines need so much more explicit fussing than organic tech, and when you're running this sleepy everything takes twice as long.

Karkat comes farther in. "You fucking wish I wanted on your bulge. Bulges. Shit, Sollux, what the fuck?"

" _What_ what the fuck?"

"There's _two_ of you."

"Yeah, _dreamself_ , retard, _hello_ ," you say with your Prospit self, this time, and waggle your fingers in the beenary gesture for _fuck off._

Karkat actually comes all the way over at that and flicks your Prospit self right at the tender base of a horn, as if he's checking you're real. The painful shock is enough to wake you up all the way in this body, and your Derse self keels right off the portalsill in a wet spatter of honey and silicomb shards. The bees finally flip the fuck out.

"God fucking damn it, Karkat!" you growl, snapping your fingers to shut the system down before you all get stung to death. "Fuck!"

Karkat kneels down by your fallen self, and pats gingerly at your slack, sleeping face. "Okay what the hell, seriously, Sollux, words are your friend, string some together for me will you?"

"I'm practicing getting both my bodies up and running simultaneously, you assfuck, and it's actually not as flawlessly easy as I make it look!"

Growling with irritation, you curl up against the portalsill and close one set of eyes. The barrier of sleep is rubbery-strange, easy to slip through accidentally and hard to push through on purpose.

You focus on breathing slow and calm, in and out, and it's sort of like remembering a set of limbs you'd briefly forgotten. With your slowly waking Derse body your turn face into KK's warm, rough palm, luxuriating in the warm fuzzy calm of tiredness, and murmur, "There."

Karkat goes stiff and shocked all over, and you guess your control wasn't quite clear enough. You'd spoken in stereo.

"Goddamn it, testing," you repeat, and you're back to solo, only your Derse mouth running. "Testing, one, two," you add with your Prospit face, and don't even yawn. "Excellent."

"That's really freaky," Karkat says hoarsely.

You bop him a sharp one right on the nose. "Help me up," you tell him.

"Uh. Where?"

"Back on the sill, fuckass, where else?"

"Don't you fucking order me! I'm the leader here, I'll do what I want."

You smack him again, then float up into the air, do a little fuck you orbit around Karkat's head and settle your own self back where you wanted to be, easy as piecharts. Floating's been so much easier since you died the first time, you don't even have to use your powers. All the dreamselves can fly.

"Show off," Karkat grumbles. His dreamself's still snug as a fucking pupating grub in his Prospit tower, and not smacking or shouting or letting TZ draw buckets all over his walls has gotten him to so much as twitch. It's a shame-- if he finally got to fly maybe he'd stop being such a sour bitch about everything. Flying is the most peaceful feeling you know.

You float your Prospit self, too, and stick out both tongues at the grouchy little bastard still kneeling on the floor. Your bodies bob a little, as your control wobbles, and one of your asses smacks the wooden sill hard. The other shoots up to the ceiling like an untethered balloon.

" _Ow!_ "

"Shit! Shit, shit, fuck, are you alright?" Karkat clambers up to sit beside you, push your slumping body away from the open window, his face drawn with concern. He's been worse than a lusus since this whole game began, clingier than fucking Eridan, even, like he thinks you're gonna drop dead again at the least little bruise, like you don't manifestly have a spare life on display.

"Just my ass, you big fussbeast," you call down from the ceiling, and swoop a little lower. "You gonna kiss it and make it better?"

"Would you just fucking cut it out with the stereo," he says roughly, hunching his shoulders up.

"Jealous?" you ask, both mouths, and he makes a savage little noise-- something like a snarl, but not quite, it pulls at you-- and shoves angrily off the sill.

"Who'd be jealous of you, you freak?" he growls, stomping across the room. "You have fun with your weirdo dreamclone wankparty, call me when you're decent-- oh, wait, that'd be _never_ \--"

"Aw, wait, KK--"

"Fuck off! And fuck _you_!"

He's got his hand on the door handle when you land and grab him by the wrists, one of you on either side. He goes very, very still and makes that rough noise again.

This time you recognize it.

"Oh," you say, and run your thumb over his racing pulse.

"Oh," he repeats weakly, his voice strangely scratchy. "What's 'oh', because, I don't-- you aren't-- just go fuck off, okay?"

"No," you say, and squeeze him, hard. He chirps again, hoarse and deeper than FF, but unmistakably needy. "You're getting _off_ on this, aren't you?"

"No," he says, as you press in close and he shudders all over with the lie, his voice cracking, "not even a little!"

"Yeah, _sure_ ," you say, both of you, and you kiss him, slumping your other body hard against the door to just enjoy what's happening to this self. For a long and breathlessly wonderful moment he kisses back, warm and eager, low little encouraging chirps with every exhale and then of all fucking things he turns his head aside. You wake your other self up with a start and loop arms around his shoulders from behind, kiss the shell of his ear, his jaw, catch his mouth again while snaking three hands up his shirt.

"Wait," he moans, "wait, wait, what-- about Feferi, do you--"

"Far's I care she can _watch_ ," you say. He actually whimpers at that. You press him, struggling, down to the floor. It's tricky: he fights like hell, refusing to give into what he obviously wants, and you're a hell of a lot more lightly built and you don't want to risk popping his fucking head off with your psionics, as delicate as balancing out your two bodies is. But you keep it together and when he fights with one of you the other one can pull him down easy, stroke his throat, palm big greedy handfuls of his ass and bit by bit the fight goes out of him. It's exciting, feeling him cave under your hands, subduing him. He's all compact bones and solid muscle, he eats a lot and is always moving. He's a brawler, used to close range melees. And you're winning.

God he's got a nice ass. You pin him down hard with one body and grind against it with the other and nearly hiss with triumph when he finally pushes back, whimpering and chirping. He vocalizes in harsh, desperate jerks when you touch him, a stuck record of desire like he's never been touched before. You realize with a weird thrill of hunger and horror that probably he never has-- he only just came out to you about his blood last week, swore you to secrecy, doesn't want TZ to know-- you slip your fingertips up along his ribs, the red-flushed seams of his grubscars, and he melts back against you and whines long and loud and miserable.

"No one's ever done this, have they?" you ask, and lick the curve of his ear. He comes up candy-pink everywhere you nip him.

"No," he gasps, shuddering like he's going to come apart. "No, no one, Sollux, please. Oh, _god._ Oh god."

You move your other self to let go of his legs, pull his shoes off one by one. Thank god he doesn't have lace-ups, it's hard as shit to concentrate with two lapfuls of warm, writhing Karkat. You want to be in him right now-- the high wavering noise he makes when his jeans get dragged clear of his bone bulge should be illegal, and you want him to be in you almost more. And oh, _fuck,_ is he ever packing heat-- you feel like an idiot for forgetting that he's male, of course his bulge is going to be bigger that FF's, the pleading warble he makes when you wrap one hand around it so much deeper. New territory for you both, and so exciting.

You spread his legs, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and sink two fingers slow and merciless up into him. It's so much tighter than you expected-- of course it is, but you're getting the hang of him-- and he jerks like he's been stabbed, and his legs quiver as you go. You gentle, press in slower and slower till he isn't breathing at all, just a taut collection of angles straining against your holds.

"You okay?" you ask, a little worried.

He nods, convulsively, and rolls his hips back, getting used to you. You grin and you pull almost all the way out-- he doesn't like that, he claws up big fistfuls of your hair, rocks his head against your shoulder and mouths _no no no no_ and then you ram back in harder. He actually screams at that. You laugh, both throats, laugh and kiss him every where you can reach, his throat, his ears, his thighs, mottling his skin with color. TZ’s right, red is the best color, and for all his mutation makes him as much a genetic dud as you are, he is _freakishly_ lovely.

"Oh my god, Sollux, you total fuck," Karkat keens, finding words again, and presses up desperately against your hands. "Just-- let me, fuck, let me get on with it, _let me_ , god, _please._ "

"Begging, KK?" you tease, and the other you rocks your fingers in and out even slower and murmurs, "Little undignified for our fearless leader, don't you think?"

Karkat makes a shattering sort of whine, and just trembles against your four hands. He has completely lost his fucking shit, and it is the best thing you have ever seen. You have got to try this on FF, she is going to love it.

"Tell me what you want," you say.

"You," he gasps, stammers out, "you, both, of you just-- surrounding me, god, yes."

"That's all?"

"Please," Karkat whines, "please please please, come on. You're going to kill me, man."

"Everyone dies," you hiss against his throat, "everything ends," you press into the crease of his thigh, letting just a hint of power and prophecy dance off your tongues. He shudders hard all over, getting off on the creeps, and you can feel him contracting against your fingers, trying desperately to pull you in farther, trying for more.

"Thank you for that little ray of sunshine," he says breathlessly. "You total wackjob. Fuck me for real already."

You growl a little, considering. This balance works, here, now, licking slow lazy trails over his body, eyes drifting open and shut and open, letting him do most of the squirming. Rolling him over? Tricky. But god you want to be inside him. You focus the self at his throat on grabbing his shoulders a little more forcefully, on the motor control necessary to shuck down your own pants. It's not so hard to pull him back on to your bulge-- you're ready, god are you ready-- and the pleasure coursing suddenly through this body, the satisfaction, _god he's fucking warm,_ it's such a shock that you can see your other body keels right over with a dull _thunk._ Karkat, the shithead, actually laughs at that, however breathlessly. You fuck up into him more than a little spitefully and the laugh shatters into a hiccup and it feels so good, so you keep going, the divide between the two of yourselves building up thick and fast and you can hardly focus, Karkat grinding back and keening so beautifully brokenly. It isn't until the self on the floor snores, a grating little hiss, that you remember the point of this whole exercise. This is about both of you, not just whichever's gotten to stick his grubfucking daggerlance into his best friend at the moment.

With a supreme effort, you claw your way back to consciousness, and peer dazedly up at Karkat leaning over you, the faltering gaze of your other self over his shoulder, already going back under. Looking at yourself feels like watching the chain of reflections in two mirrors that keep fogging up, it's frustrating, you should be able to keep this balance--

"Fuck me, KK," you murmur, sloppy-tongued with lust and sleep, and his eyes fly open so wide.

He grabs you, sloppy eager and utterly awake. You concentrate hard and manage to fuck into him from behind at the same time he manages to push into you, and you think you all three cry out at the same time. He is _so_ much bigger than you’re used to getting from FF, for a second you think you’re going to fucking _explode_ before you manage to relax into the pressure. And he's good at this, though, for his first time, all his bluster and frustration translating into hard relentless motion and pressure up inside you and he palms greedily at your bulge. Every time you get too distracted with what he's doing to you he starts growling, grinding back against you harder, still tight and wet and eager for more. You feel like you're going to go mad, bouncing from body to body, delirious with stimulation and sleep-haze like strobe lights all through you, nowhere to escape to. You feel incredibly, impossibly alive and at the same time like you’re been hollowed out into the thinnest skein of being, shredded into nothing but desire.

Maybe it's like juggling, all a matter of watching your momentum, the colors flying back and forth through the air, back and forth. Maybe you should pay a little more attention to the land of tents and whatever, next time you're through.

Maybe, but really it feels more like playing Troll Pong.

And you've never lost at Troll Pong.

"What's so funny?" Karkat grumbles.

"You," you reply with both mouths, perfect stereo, and you can feel the shudder all through him. He is so _flatteringly_ fucked up. You are going to come any second and you have no idea what that’s going to do to you.

"Fuck off," he's snarling, hitting at you with a loose fist. "Laugh at me like I'm not fucking your-- _ah,_ your fucking brains out-- didn't know you wanted this _black_ \--"

"As if," you laugh again, breathless and unhinged, loopy with pleasure. "You wouldn't know what to do with a black pail if one dropped onto your head."

"Maybe you're just not-- ah god, _Sollux_ \-- not up to my _standards_ , oh god, oh fucking _god._ You fuckface."

You lick the base of one of his horns, as you feel the self he's fucking into tip over the edge of climax with a hoarse scream that you didn’t at all mean to make.

"Oh," Karkat says, a soft tiny sound that doesn't sound at all like himself, and he comes, quietly and without fuss. He just holds on to you and shakes, his face soft and wondering, and afterwards he mashes cheek against your shoulder and hyperventilates a little.

"Calm down," you gasp, and finish yourself off a second time with a few more sloppy strokes against his ass, then flop over his back, exhausted, your body underneath his entirely passing out and your mind against the smooth curve of his shoulder on _fire._ He grunts and slaps at you-- not fair, there's twice as much of you to hit. You regretfully conclude you are probably never going to be able to effectively dual-wield yourself in battle, which is a total shame. Still, live and learn, you figure, and at least you've almost got your coordination issues down. Maybe if you put in some more time practicing with your hive-combs.

Oh, right, Karkat's still here. "Feel better?" you ask, patting at his side. "Hey, KK. Hey?"

He looks back up at you, his eyes so wide and gold. He strokes over your face, slow and weirdly careful. His hands are rough with all the new callus he's picked up in this game, and it kind of itches.

"That was... something," he says, and his smile is this strange hesitant little alien thing. "Are we...?"

"Yes, we're still _friends_ , you nooksniffing _fuckstick_ ," you snap, completely irritated. "God, I can't believe you."

"Oh," he says. "Yeah. Right. Friends." The smile has vanished, and he looks a lot more like himself, restless and angry, ready to go hurt the next thing he sees.

You pat his ass, kind of grudgingly, and push him away. You do not have time to deal with his moods, you have some tech you need to get back to.

"Go bug TZ, you got any extra energy, I'll be fucked if I'm dealing with whatever fucked up daymare passes for an afterglow with you," you tell him, and curl up on top of your already sleeping self. You don't think you can sleep with both bodies, but you're sure as hell not going to go anywhere soon with either of them after that little party you just indulged in. You'll take it easy for a while, get some fine work done. You reach out with your powers, and haul the mechanical computers across the floor towards you with a rattle and clank. A cog hits Karkat's arm when he doesn't move in time, and you growl and swat at him to try and get him out of the way.

"Fuck!" he snaps, sitting up fast, "okay, I'll get out of your fucking hair, I got it--" and wobbles up to his feet. He rubs at his head as he goes to the door, and just before he goes through he hesitates, looks back at you.

"Sollux?" he asks. He sounds so tired, and for a second you feel something twinge inside you.

"Yeah, what?"

"I... fuck, never mind. Sweet dreams, shitstain."

God, he's a bitch.

"Fuck off already, KK."

"Fuck you too, Sollux."

The door clicks closed. You slouch back against yourself, and haul your hivecombs across the floor with a lazy flick of power. Plans snap and sparkle in your mind, laying themselves out in elegant screeds against the inside of your eyeballs and you snap your fingers. The bees startle awake, and you feel the slow curl of waking winds up through your other self as well. You crack the knuckles of all four hands at once, and grin, putting Karkat and his issues out of your mind entirely.

You've got _real_ work to do.


End file.
